‘I am a coward’: Readers share their very relatable relationship confessions

Well, aren’t you a criminal lot? Readers fess up to their best kept relationship secrets to Frances Whiting and they are truly relatable.

Well, aren’t you a criminal lot?

I’m sorry, but there it is, because following last week’s column where I confessed to the odd spot of clothes hiding, many of you wrote to me from around Australia with your own tales of domestic crimes, and frankly you make me look like an amateur.

There was Roberta M, of Adelaide Hills (possibly not her real name, or address) who bragged of her lifetime of crimes against her husband Colin (again, possibly not his real name) and his wardrobe. “I’ve been hiding stuff from him since the day we met! You name it, I’ve hidden it!” Roberta wrote in a tone I can only describe as gleeful.

Then we have the case of the missing jacket, along with the following confession. “An anonymous reply, because, let’s face it, I am a coward.

My mother in law gave me her husband’s beige elastic, high waisted trousers for my husband to wear. I swear I have no idea what happened to them. Thank you, Frances, for allowing me to confess secretly.” You are welcome, Margaret T from Brighton in Melbourne – again, possibly not her real name or address.

Actually, to make things less unwieldy, let’s assume that all names from here on, have been changed to protect the not so innocent.

Readers send in their relationship confessions and we can all relate.

Let’s see, Helen hid her daughter’s far too short mini shirt in an old handbag, where it was eventually found at the back of a cupboard, and Helen suspects, then moved to a friend’s house for furtive wearing at a later stage, and Clive disposed of his wife’s “horrible, horrible felt jacket that made her look like a goblin” during an interstate work trip.

And look, while I would never condone such criminal activity, I’m 100 per cent behind you, Clive.

But my absolute favourite letter is this one, from Rosie.

Dear Frances, I too am a “clothes hider”…..specifically of my husband’s clothes, and I must say I’ve been pretty successful at it over the years until the day he asked what had happened to his Safari Suit!

I could hardly believe he was asking for that relic from the 70s. Fortunately I was able to dig it out from my secret hiding place, and calm was restored.

I asked him why he would want it after all these years (he’s in his 80s} and his reply was “I want to be buried in it”. I diplomatically pointed out that he was no longer “trim, taut & terrific” as he’d been all those years ago, and he’d not be able to get one leg in it let alone his whole body. He was not defeated one iota. His solution was “ well just put it in the coffin with me”. So it’s now reinstated in his wardrobe with a note attached “ put in coffin”. Cheers, Rosie.

Thank you, Rosie, I now have a lovely image of your husband arriving at the Pearly Gates, with his swinging Safari Suit tucked under one arm, and a bottle of Cold Duck under the other, asking where the Fondue Party is.

And thanks too, to all of you who wrote, I’m glad to provide a safe space where you can get things off your chest. Within reason, I’m not a confessional box.

Originally published as ‘I am a coward’: Readers share their very relatable relationship confessions